The Sheikh's Bride of Convenience (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 15)

by Cara Albany

  Today was their anniversary. One year to the day since they'd exchanged vows down there in the garden. One year since they'd come upstairs and forged an agreement to avoid intimacy.

  As if sensing Grace's sudden tension, Zarif shifted in her arms. She rocked him gently, whispering soft words to him. He settled immediately and Grace turned to Anya. "Could you take him for a few minutes?" she asked. "Maybe you could take him inside."

  "Of course," Anya said, smiling broadly and reaching out to take Zarif. Grace placed Zarif carefully in Anya's arms. The young woman walked slowly back into the sitting room. Grace watched Anya, appreciating the instant care the woman took with Zarif.

  Grace turned and leaned on the marble balustrade, feeling the coolness of the stone against her skin.

  She glanced toward the tables in the garden and saw Qazim. She felt a sudden shock, and immediately chided herself for that reaction to seeing her husband. But, it was a typical reaction, she realized.

  She and Qazim had been living almost separate lives for a year now. Even though they'd existed beneath the same roof; even though they'd shared meals together; even though they'd shared special moments with Zarif. There was one shocking truth which Grace and Qazim had hidden from everyone.

  She and Qazim had never shared one single night together.

  Not once had they lain alongside each other; not once had they been alone at night in Grace's suite; not once had she even visited his suite for a single night.

  Days together. Nights apart.

  It had been an exquisite form of gentle torture, Grace told herself.

  Separate lives. Separate beds.

  She was sure it hadn't been any easier for Qazim. But, to be fair to him, there hadn't been even one moment during the last twelve months when he'd even tried to break his solemn vow to her.

  The vow that had shocked her so much.

  The vow to respect her wishes that their relationship be one without intimacy.

  None.

  Of course, during the early stages of her pregnancy, changes had taken place in Grace's body. Occasionally those changes had created urges to be near Qazim. Irrational, inconvenient impulses that she had fought hard to resist.

  And she had succeeded in staying away from him. But, not without feeling a powerful sense of regret afterwards.

  For his part, Qazim had behaved like the perfect gentleman. Whenever he and Grace had been together in public.

  But she'd seen plenty of evidence in private of just how difficult it had been for him to keep his promise to her. To give her what she had demanded in her moment of irrational, impulsive madness.

  No love-making.

  No sex.

  Qazim had demonstrated steely resolve in the face of that denial. There had been times when she'd seen the sheer power of his desire for Grace. And how he'd battled to maintain his self-control. She was sure it had been monumentally difficult for him.

  And for her.

  Grace swallowed, thinking how hard some of the last year had been. Of course, Qazim was every bit as handsome and tempting as he'd ever been. And that had just made thing worse. There had been plenty of moments when she'd wanted to reach out and touch him, kiss him, sink into his embrace.

  But she had resisted. Completely.

  Eventually, later in her pregnancy, all her attention had been taken up with the impending delivery of the baby. Nights had become a challenge, and the changes in her body had consumed her every waking moment.

  But, all through those times, Qazim had done everything possible to make sure she was comfortable, well looked after.

  Safe and well.

  Nothing had been too much trouble for Qazim. And, so Grace had settled into life in the palace, awaiting the birth of their baby.

  The delivery had been hard on Grace. But, that had been more than made up for by the joy of the arrival of Zarif.

  Their son.

  Qazim hadn't been able to disguise his pride, nor the sheer physical joy at having become a father to a bouncing baby boy.

  His heir, was how he had described Zarif to Grace, during a quiet, whispered exchange soon after Zarif's birth.

  It was hard to find any fault with how Qazim had conducted himself this past year, Grace told herself.

  He had been almost the perfect husband.

  And her? What kind of wife had she been to Qazim?

  Grace gazed down at the garden as she considered the answer to that question. She saw Qazim talking to one of the palace staff. Qazim was talking animatedly to the man.

  Grace smiled. Qazim looked handsome, dressed in his white open-necked shirt and dark pants. He looked as if he was in his element. This was where he belonged. His domain.

  He had changed in so many ways from the man she had abandoned on that long ago, distant, dark night at his apartment.

  Gone was the harshness, the impulsive temper, the need to control. That had all been replaced by a careful consideration of her every need, an obvious determination to be patient and thoughtful.

  Sometimes, though, she missed the former Qazim. Feeling guilty, even as she considered it, she'd realized recently that there were times when she missed the man who would act impulsively, the sheikh who wouldn't take no for an answer.

  Maybe that man still lay beneath the surface, she told herself. Perhaps it would only need the simplest trigger for Qazim to, once again, become that powerful, demanding male.

  The memory of the way she and Qazim had made love over a year ago had never faded from her mind. From time to time, she played with those memories, guiltily savoring their detail. It had become one of her recent, secret pleasures. One that she knew she dare not admit to Qazim.

  They had an agreement. Didn't they?

  Grace frowned, thinking that maybe that agreement had made sense during a different time. When their life together was only beginning.

  But things were different now. So very different.

  Down in the garden, Qazim turned suddenly and looked up at Grace's balcony. She felt a sudden, warm sensation sweep through her as he waved to her, smiling broadly. Her nerves tingled, and she felt something in her middle, a familiar feeling that was like an echo of times past. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

  She forced her attention back to the sight of Qazim gazing up at her. Grace waved tentatively back at him. He made a gesture toward the activity around him, almost as if he was seeking her approval. She nodded and smiled. They were too far away from each other to speak, but she could tell he was excited by what was planned for later that morning.

  Zarif's big moment. One of many to come, Grace told herself.

  Grace gazed around the palace grounds. This was where Zarif belonged. Where he deserved to grow up.

  How could she ever have thought about leaving all of this behind? Some things in life were inevitable. Undeniable. And this was one of them.

  Both Zarif and Qazim belonged here.

  And her?

  Grace sighed. Her place was alongside the two most important people in her life.

  Her son and her husband.

  Maybe it was time to make the decision she'd been putting off for far too long.

  Perhaps the time had come to end the uncertainty of the past year.

  And, it occurred to Grace, that today was a fine place to start.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It had been a good idea to choose the early part of the morning for the ceremony, Qazim told himself. It wouldn't have made any sense bringing Zarif out into the afternoon sun. Even although the ceremony would only last less than half an hour, it was long enough for a baby to be outside in the garden.

  The canopy had been completed an hour before. Qazim stood on the grass alongside a long table. Right beside him were the two most important people in his life.

  His son and his wife.

  Behind them were gathered a small group of family members. Less than twenty close relatives had been invited to this most sacred ceremony. And that was the way it had b
een for a very long time.

  A new child had to be welcomed into the Al Shirah family, in the same way as had been happening for centuries.

  Qazim turned and smiled at Grace who gazed up at him. She held Zarif in her arms. Qazim was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

  His wife with his son in her arms.

  Grace was dressed in a plain white gown, and looked like a picture of perfect elegance. Zarif wore a little, ornately patterned, loose-fitting gown, perfect for the early morning warmth. The air beneath the canopy was cooler than out in the direct sunshine. Qazim knew they couldn't remain here for very long.

  "Okay?" Qazim said to Grace.

  She smiled and nodded.

  Qazim leaned down and teased aside the collar of Zarif's delicate gown. "He looks comfortable," he said.

  Grace nodded and rocked Zarif gently a little. "He'll be fine for a little while, I think," she replied.

  'This won't last long, "Qazim explained. He'd already gone over what the tribal elder would do once the ceremony got under way. There would be some simple declarations, some important words spoken. Then there would a blessing bestowed on Zarif.

  Grace looked nervous, Qazim thought. She was doing her best to hide it, but he could tell. This was all part of the new life she had agreed to. He knew the last twelve months hadn't been easy for her. They hadn't been easy for him, either.

  But they had got through what some might have thought was the hardest part. The first year.

  Would it be the first of many others to come?

  That question burned in his mind, just like it had done for months.

  This morning, over breakfast, they'd both understood what today really meant. He hadn't had to remind her that it was their anniversary. She'd come right out and wished him well. She'd even kissed him on the cheek after she'd done it.

  For his part, he had a surprise lined up for her. He had planned a special dinner, just for the two of them.

  But that was for later.

  Right now, all that mattered was that this ceremony was carried out.

  Qazim glanced behind him. His brothers were there and their wives. Also his parents. His father looked stern, as usual. But, Qazim could also see a hint of pride in his father's steady gaze. Alongside him, Qazim's mother leaned against his father, holding gently onto his arm. She smiled at Qazim. He was pleased that his parents were here. That everyone of his immediate family was here to be a part of this.

  There were also many cousins and uncles gathered in the group behind him. Everyone who'd been invited had come. After the ceremony there would some shared food and drink in the coolness of the palace.

  The elder who was to carry out the ceremony arrived. He was dressed in traditional white robes. He smiled at Qazim and then at Grace. Then he reached down and laid a gentle hand on Zarif's head. He said words in Qazhar language.

  Qazim knew that Grace's command of his language was growing by the day. She'd been learning as much as she could. But, this must seem so alien to her, he thought. The words the elder spoke were words about tradition and honor and family.

  Qazim thought about Riaz, standing behind him, with Eva holding onto his arm. His brother would appreciate the sentiments of these words, Qazim told himself. They were the values that Riaz believed in, the ones he and Eva lived by.

  The elder placed a hand on Grace's forehead and spoke, his voice quiet and steady. Grace looked solemn, as if she realized the significance of what was happening.

  Then the elder reached out his hand and placed it onto Qazim's forehead. Qazim closed his eyes and listened to the elder's voice. Qazim felt a surge of emotion as he leaned his head forward slightly, eager to feel a part of this experience.

  His heart filled suddenly with pride, and something more. As he heard the words that announced that Zarif shared his heritage with family members long gone, Qazim sensed a powerful connection being forged. One that he knew it would be impossible to break.

  Then the elder opened his arms wide and smiled at Qazim and Grace, making it clear that he wanted them to move closer together.

  Qazim shifted toward Grace, who lifted little Zarif up. Qazim gazed down into the eyes of his son and felt his throat tighten with emotion. The boy gazed at the elderly man who spoke in front of his parents, and then smiled.

  This truly was a special moment, Qazim told himself. He felt humbled by everything that was happening. He sensed Grace's body press gently against his side.

  Qazim looked at her. He could tell that she was feeling emotion almost as much as he was. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.

  Qazim leaned in even closer as the elder continued to speak. Then, suddenly, the elder ceased to speak. There was a long silence. Everyone knew this was the moment for reflection. No one spoke a word. All Qazim could hear was his own breathing and the tiny sounds of his son.

  Then the moment passed, and the elder was smiling at Qazim and Grace. With a gentle lifting of his head, the elder made it clear that the final thing could be done.

  With that, Qazim turned, placing a hand around Grace's back. He guided her around to face the gathered family members, all of whom were wide-eyed and expectant.

  Then Qazim and Grace faced them, with Zarif still clutched carefully in his mother's arms. From behind him, Qazim heard the elder speak loud and clear. The words were final and the ceremony was complete.

  All at once, the gathered group broke into spontaneous applause. Qazim led Grace and Zarif forward. His parents came to them, broad smiles on their faces.

  Qazim's father looked down at Zarif and spoke words in Qazhar. Words of welcome and words of devotion.

  Qazim's mother went to Grace and hugged her. "Congratulations," she said to Grace.

  Grace smiled. "Thank you," she replied. She glanced down at Zarif. "It's really all about him, though," she said.

  His two brothers came to them, giving Qazim and Grace their heartiest congratulations.

  It seemed as if everyone had something to say to the happy couple and everyone wanted to give their blessing to Zarif. Qazim had never felt such joy and happiness. Truly, having a family like this was a blessing, he told himself.

  Grace's eyes were bright throughout the time it took for every family member to give her their congratulations.

  And then it was time to head back into the palace building, and into the cool of the rooms there.

  Qazim led Grace back to the palace. They were followed by most of the guests. Some of them remained in the garden where drinks were to be served beneath the canopy.

  Everything had gone exactly to plan, Qazim told himself. This was the first of many steps which Zarif would take in his long journey as a son of the Al Shirah family.

  The indoor reception had been arranged inside one of the largest rooms in the palace. The room had high ceilings, white-panelled walls, elegant furnishings and strategically placed ceiling fans which cooled the air in the room. A long table had been laid out, on which had been laid a modest selection of traditional Qazhar dishes and drinks.

  Qazim stayed close to Grace and Zarif throughout the next hour or so. Grace shared the holding of the baby with Anya. That gave Qazim precious time with Grace. They mingled and chatted with family members, some of whom Qazim saw only once or twice a year. They were all generous in their praise of Zarif.

  Qazim took a simple pleasure in watching how well Grace fitted in with the extended family. He knew that she and Becca had become very close this past year. He was sure that Becca had given Grace tips on how to fit in to the life in Qazhar.

  Once or twice, Grace caught Qazim looking at her appreciatively. Each time she gave him a look that was both challenging and obviously indicated that she was pleased with his attention. It wasn't too much hard work to portray their relationship as one which was close. They both knew the truth, though.

  Qazim wondered how much of that truth had become known to others. Staff in the palace would know that he and Grace led separate lives.
They knew about the separate bedrooms.

  The sleeping arrangement.

  That couldn't be hidden from anyone. But the staff were loyal. Some had been with the Al Shirah family for years. Maybe the staff thought the way Qazim and Grace lived was perfectly normal for a sheikh as rich and powerful as Qazim. Perhaps it was exactly what they expected.

  What would the other family members think, though? Would they approve of the reality of this marriage?

  Their marriage of convenience.

  He didn't want to think about what the next few months might bring. But he forced himself, anyway.

  It would come down to this.

  Grace would either remain with Qazim, or she would demand some other kind of arrangement. One that might mean she wouldn't stay with him in the palace. One that might even mean she would want to leave Qazhar.

  They'd talked before about this anniversary. For some couples, their first anniversary would be about a celebration of their first complete year together.

  But not for Qazim and Grace.

  No. They always had to do things differently, he told himself.

  It pained Qazim to even think about it as he stood next to Grace, trying to force himself to smile at his guests as if everything on the world was simply perfect.

  Qazim and Grace had agreed that their first anniversary would be the point at which she would tell him what she wanted to do. Where she wanted to go. Whether she would even want to be with Qazim.

  Those thoughts made Qazim's jaw tighten and every muscle in his body tense. He fought hard to mask his emotion with a blank expression on his features as Grace chatted and laughed with one of his uncles.

  He couldn't let that happen. Not now that they'd come this far.

  Tonight was going to be his last chance to get some kind of certainty about Grace's wishes.

  She knew he'd arranged some kind of meal together. But there was going to be more than one surprise in store for Grace. Qazim knew he had to try to be one step ahead of her.

  Eventually, Grace had to excuse herself and leave when Zarif needed some attention. Qazim felt his heart sink as he watched Grace and Anya walk out of the reception room.